


Seamless Integration

by alliedwolves



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Could be a "per my last email" but then I couldn't gift it to the people who inspired it so, Fluff, Knitting, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, The Sweater Curse, Unrepentant Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24553561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliedwolves/pseuds/alliedwolves
Summary: Martin knits Jon a jumper. Possibly the first of many?
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Martin Blackwood’s Mother, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 7
Kudos: 127
Collections: The_Magnusquerade





	Seamless Integration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nevanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/gifts), [sargarepa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sargarepa/gifts).



Martin's mum hadn't liked knitting even before her hands had seized up with arthritis. It'd made it pretty obvious how little people knew about her, cared about her likes and dislikes, when she got balls of yarns with care packages. She'd cursed and muttered and hurled them aside, sometimes with the little "get well soon!" jars of jam that smashed and destroyed any worth the gift as a whole had. 

They hadn't been able to afford that. Most of the wool was pretty _nice,_ too, even the acrylics soft and pleasantly coloured, in the subdued greens his mum had liked. The ones that had washed out Martin when he'd worn them to school, inevitably too small, since he was a chubby child, and the wrong colour, making his red cheeks stand out like some kind of haunted elf. 

So Martin had started taking it, used the acrylics to learn, bought needles in a charity shop and watched tutorials, enjoying the soothing pattern keeping, the way his hands took to the work like they did to making tea, the rhythmic movements deft despite how his mother's insistence he was too big, too harsh, too careless as he cared for her. 

He still had the first jumper he'd made. It was broad and drop shouldered, a sensible, mid-priced grey. The cabled sleeves, he'd messed up a little, knitted slightly too long in the round, but it meant he could tuck his hands in the best thing about it. The cuffs were a bold, deep blue he'd wanted to make the whole jumper, but that much hand dyed silk/merino? He couldn't afford it, not really.

So he kept the hank until he was good enough that he'd want to see the results all day as he wore it. He wore the jumper to work when he was feeling in need of bolstering, the warmth of it and the care he'd put into it, and the fact it was _his_ and not something his mum had foisted on him, or wool he'd taken from her. All his. 

Like he was now Jon's, he supposed. 

Thus, why he had that jumper on now, hands tucked into the deep twilight cuffs, and a woollen gift parcelled up in string to take to Jon, rather than tea. As well as blood. Maybe. 

He could see he didn't need to knock, Jon already looking up at him, the door open, but he fumbled with the parcel anyway, wanting to do things right. He was already blushing, and Jon had that expression on, where he might have been embarrassed, or flustered, or surprised, but as caught up in himself as Martin was now, he couldn't have said for sure. 

"You can come in, Martin. Are you-- Is something the matter?" Martin was definitely leaning towards reading Jon as worried, now.

"No! No, things are fine, things are, better than fine, actually. I just." Martin took a deep breath, clutching the floppy cardigan to himself to gather his composure, "I had a gift? for you, if you want it, it took a while, and I know your measurements, and got the, the, I" 

Part of Martin was screaming at him to be less awkward, another not to mention how long it took because that was what made you look desperate, wasn't it, and yet a third part was disgusted at the mere suggestion of a thought that he might begrudge Jon his time and labour or anything else. 

Jon got up, rounded the desk at only his usual fast pace. Now he was concerned, and Martin had messed this up. Gently, slowly, giving Martin every chance to pull away, Jon stood on tiptoes to kiss Martin's cheek. His arms wrapped around Martin's in a strangely formal embrace, keeping the parcel between them. 

They stood like that for several breaths, Martin pulling himself together. 

"I made you something. A cardigan, actually. You're always so cold? And you don't notice, so I got some nice 12 ply, chunky stuff I don't, normally bother with but you ran so much colder than me even before, you know, the whole, don't run at all thing." 

Jon laughed, stretching up to give Martin another kiss on the cheek. Martin was beet red, but he kept going on, gamely. 

"It's a bit early. You know, the sweater boyfriend curse, but I figure, if you can't get rid of me for supernatural reasons, I might as well take advantage, and make something you might want." 

"Can I open it now? Or should we wait for lunchtime, when you have more time to admire it?" Jon asked, so sensibly _him_ , that Martin felt a majority of the worry dissipate. 

"Try it on now, maybe? and you can tell me how it's gone at lunch." 

Jon nodded, and took the parcel and carefully untied the string. 

Martin couldn't help but lean forward in anticipation. The bigness of the gesture, the importance of Jon, as partner and master both, it was. It was a lot, and so was the heavy navy and teal blue cardigan, likely to come down to Jon's knees like a proper coat, less dropped in the shoulder than Martin preferred, but nonetheless, big, and soft, and warm. 

Jon looked up at him, holding the weighty garment by the shoulders. "Martin, I. Thank you. Did you make this?" 

Martin was going to run out of blood for the rest of his body if his cheeks and neck and ears kept this up. 

:"Yes? I had to guess at your measurements, but it's a big jumper, you can wear your normal work stuff underneath it, and even use it as a blanket if you fall asleep at the office again?" 

"Practical. Beautiful. I love it." Jon pulled it on at once, the sleeves gathering a bit at the elbows but the bulk of the cloth kept out of the way with the tight cuffs to the wrist, done in the last of the hand-dyed twilight that cuffed Martin's own hands. 

Jon being newly strong enough to scoop Martin from his feet, to settle him in his arms so they could kiss, would never get old. 


End file.
